Tactile
by Danibat
Summary: Kirk loses a crew member for the first time  random redshirt, NOT main cast . McCoy, no stranger to bearing responsibility for the lives of others, helps him deal. KirkxMcCoy First Time. One-shot.


**Rating: **NC-17 (You have been warned) KirkxMcCoy, First Time.

**Warnings: **Non-main character death, angst

**Summary: **Kirk loses a crewmember for the first time (random redshirt, NOT main cast). McCoy, no stranger to bearing responsibility for the lives of others, helps him deal.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own them(or Star Trek). I just like to see them all bendy. I promise to return them in one piece.

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><p>James Tiberius Kirk is one of the most tactile people he's ever known. It comes as easy as breathing for him.<p>

_Inhale_, a hand clasping a shoulder on the bridge.

"Anything interesting happening this morning Sulu?"

_Exhale_, a light elbow nudge in the mess.

"Heard you got knocked around in the gym last night Peters."

_Inhale_, a clap on the back.

"The Conn's all yours Spock."

_Exhale_, both his hands grasp your shoulders and he gives a gentle shake to bring your eyes to meet his.

"Don't worry Bones! I'll bring them back in one piece."

Bumps, nudges, clasps, pats, and in Pavel's case, an occasional affectionate hair ruffle, are just some of the ways Jim connects.

The Enterprise's Captain presents his tactile inclinations in other ways as well. When sitting in his chair, on the bridge, the Captain is always running his fingers along the arms and various buttons at his disposal. When he is eating, or relaxing and sharing a drink with Leonard, Kirk is often seen with his glass in his hand, fiddling with the condensation, twisting it in his hands.

Jim tugs on his shirts so much that he is starting to complain that laundry is giving him some other captain's shirt, in too large a size.

So after Jim loses his first crew member on an away mission, Leonard McCoy knows what he needs. What he doesn't know is where to find him. And Jim does not want to be found.

"Computer, location of the Captain."

There is a beeping chirrup. "That information cannot be disclosed at this time."

"Damn it." So much for that. Apparently he's let the computer know it too.

And he's checked all Jim's usual hiding spots, little good he knows that would have done him. He needs to regroup, thinking like Jim is never easy, and it's been a long day. He should know, he had to sign off on the Ensign's funeral arrangements since there was no next of kin to notify. So he heads back to his office, hoping that a splash or two from the bottle of bourbon in his drawer might clear his head.

As the door 'shhissts' open in front of him, the light from sickbay illuminates the original object of his search. Jim doesn't even look up at the golden glow that captures him. He is sitting on the floor with his back pressed against the wall and his arms on his knees, hands dangling and loose, head bowed. Leonard steps forward to allow the door to slide closed behind him.

"Jim?"

Jim still doesn't look up as McCoy walks up next to him and sits down.

"Thought I'd be looking for you for a while yet. I didn't expect you to come to me." He says, gruff but soft.

"Is this where you tell me it wasn't my fault?" Jim asks quietly.

"No. You know it's not your fault, or damn it, you better know that."

Jim huffs and finally lifts his head, but it's to let it thunk back on the wall behind him and stare at the ceiling. "Yeah I know. It's just, hell. Phearson's a good guy…was a good guy."

"Jim…" McCoy knows what Jim needs, but he's not sure how to get there from here.

Jim beats him to the punch by sliding over so that their sides are pressed together. Leonard places an arm across Jim's shoulders and tucks him in tight against his side.

"You do what you can, everything you can, and sometimes it's just not enough." He manages to rasp out of his throat.

"Does it ever get any easier?"

He's never lied to Jim, and he's not about to start now. "No."

"Good." There's relief in Jim's voice. And he finally, _finally _looks up to meet Leonard's eyes.

What he sees there twists his gut, even as he feels relief. He knows that look. It's a look he's never wanted to see in Jim's eyes. It's a look that says he's decided to make it personal. Every death, of every crew member, every time. And, God, Leonard's so relieved, because it means that Jim will make it through this, and he'll come out stronger. But Leonard's also afraid.

That look means heartache and sacrifice. It's a look he sees reflected in his own eyes every morning. It's a look that means as long as there's breath left in Jim, then it's Jim who will be finding his way onto the operating table more often than not, and that thought scares Leonard more than anything.

It could have just as easily been Jim lying in the ship morgue at this moment. And now Jim's eyes are saying that he's going to do his damnedest to make sure next time it is. Leonard knows it's not a death wish. It's a promise to fight death. To wake each morning and fight a losing war. He fights it every day with his hands, wielding them to shield and defend. Jim's going to use his body as his weapon.

As if McCoy doesn't lose enough sleep.

Everything Leonard's feeling flashes through his eyes, the understanding, the hope, the relief, and the fear. Fear of losing Jim, fear of losing his best friend, fear of losing his anchor, fear of losing this. It's all there for Jim to see.

He can hear Jim's breath catch, hitch. Leonard knows he can't change Jim's mind. Won't even try when he knows his own credo lies down the same path. So he says the only thing he can. His voice a rasp.

"Just try to come back with enough pieces for me to put you back together."

Jim doesn't smile, but there is a promise in his eyes as he leans forward and rests their foreheads together.

They know where this is going, where this has been heading since the academy and Nero; So neither of them is shocked when their lips brush.

Jim sighs and leans into the contact. Leonard can feel his heart start to race and his skin heat up. Jim Kirk is a combustion reaction at heart, all fire and energy transforming his surroundings to burning heat.

Even silent and still as he's been, he generates a heat that draws McCoy in like a moth to a flame.

Their mouths brush again and again, lips clinging longer each time. They are kneeling now, chests brushing. Jim coils his hands in Leonard's shirt and holds them together, as if trying to force them to occupy the same space. They pant and huff shuddering at the contact. Mouths open and wet now, tongues flicking over lips and teeth.

Then Jim moans and forces his hands to unclench from their death grip on McCoy's shirt. He slides one arm over and down Leonard's back, bringing them into contact from head to knee. He winds the other hand down to grasp McCoy's ass-check and thrusts himself forward, rubbing them together.

Leonard can feel his body throb in joy, signals sparking—moving along his receptors screaming "Yes!" Their contact affirming that they are alive. Alive to touch, and feel, and need.

He takes a moment to register that this is happening, here, now, on the floor of his office, before everything starts to move in slow motion, and still impossibly fast.

They are panting into each other's mouths. Shuffling to get hands past waistbands. Jim is still thrusting and rubbing in an uneven rhythm that is as satisfying as it is torturous, driving McCoy up the wall with the need it causes to spiral higher and higher.

They lose their balance and topple over sideways. Jim manages to roll them so he is straddling Leonard's waist, still rolling their hips together. Jim raises himself up to a crouch and their hands are finally able to get past the barriers of buttons and zippers.

Leonard finds his hand full of Jim, hard and heavy, and he can feel Jim's groan as it rumbles against his collar bone before Jim's mouth covers his, and then there is a hand wrapping around him, achingly hot, and the friction so good.

Jim starts a steady rhythm that causes lights to flare behind Leonard's eyelids. He reciprocates, and they are pulling, panting—sweating—their focus solely on the sensations that they are wrenching from each other as the pressure builds and tightens, until Leonard can't take it anymore, and the dam bursts. He's grunting and splashing between them; His vision graying out, and the world fading into the background.

As his focus returns, he realizes Jim is slumped against him, spent. Their breathing is still evening out and neither of them is able, or inclined, to move yet.

Leonard can feel Jim move his head so that his mouth is just under McCoy's chin.

When Jim speaks it is breathless and light. "Bones?"

McCoy's voice comes out a deep rumble from within his chest. "Yeah kid?"

Leonard can feel Jim smile against his neck. "How many pieces is enough?"

He wants to laugh, to smack Jim on the back of the head, but something clenches within his chest that prevents his usual response, the one that Jim wants to evoke.

"Just…" He is forced to clear his throat as his arms tighten around the body laying supine against him. "just try and stay recognizable huh kid?"

Jim stills against him and then brings his palms up to cup Leonard's face and force their eyes to connect.

"I promise Bones. I promise I'll come back. Always."

The words sting, and Leonard tries to pull back, but Jim holds him in place.

"Don't make promises you can't keep Jim."

"I'm not. As long as you're here to pick up the pieces, I'm coming back."

The look in Jim's eyes transform the words into fact. Solid as concrete. Jim's chosen to lay his body on the line, but he's also vowing to be here, to come back to this place, this moment, again and again. Life and death, promises and the future, wrapped up in each other, and this piece of time. And heaven help him, Leonard believes him.

"Jim…"

"I can't promise to be safe Bones. I can't promise not to get hurt. I can't be that Captain. I can't…"

His voice breaks a little, and Leonard brings their lips together in a hard kiss that Jim returns with closed eyes.

"I know Jim, I know."

Jim nods, "But I promise to come back to you."

Leonard takes a shuddery breath. "You damn well better."

And Jim's still nodding. "I will, I will. I promise. Because it's about living. The price of survival is living. And I'll do mine here with you."

-Fin-

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><p>AN: As always let me know what you think!


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